Everything, Anything
by Suffering Angel
Summary: Because what else can you do when the person you care for the most tends to leave you behind all the time? Post KH2, rated for mature content and emotional issues. Detailed warnings inside.


I don't own Kingdom Hearts.

Set Post KH2.

This be from Sora's POV.

Hurray for SoRiku bed-talk fics.

Warnings – mentioned Nudity; mental issues; eventual intercourse though not actually mentioned; mentions of "soft core" bondage.

* * *

_**Everything, Anything**_

Waking up from a dream is never easy. Ever. If it's the sweetest dream you've ever seen you'd fight reality with every last bit of your strength; if it were a nightmare, you'd fight your way out, praying all along that once you open your eyes, it'll be all better. You struggle and growl and by the time you finally open your eyes it's all over, fading farther into the back of your consciousness where it came from like a playful pixie dashing off back into the woods, leading you forever more clueless as to whether she had in store for you a Trick or a Treat.

And then turn around, and push yourself up and open your eyes only to find it beyond your reach, an illusion of a delusion. In other words –

Not even a Memory.

Tainted, tattered, scattered… gone.

And yet despite it having been a nightmare that had me once again standing in front of _that_ Door, I find opening my eyes to be something far, far more terrifying then being faced with the sin I bore upon myself that day those years ago.

I never truly know what I'll find…

And no sooner do I think that and you've already shifted, grumbling something in your sleep as you shift to a more comfortable position on your side of the bed, the end result being that our legs are far more entangled than a moment before. Despite knowing you're with your back to me, the mere notion that you're _there_ at all makes it all better again, and I finally open my eyes.

It's an odd sensation, having your Heart skip a beat; it happens every time I lay eyes on you, and this one isn't different. You're there, hair a tousled mess of silver strands sprawled on the pillow, the blanket barely covering anything I've seen before, and the pale white marks my fingernails left behind still taint your skin. You're warm and alive and here and I find myself pulling closer to spoon against you, relishing the small hiss that escapes your lips as I run my fingers over your abused skin.

Call me weird, but you're the one who likes it; never ever would've done it otherwise and you know it.

Maybe I _am_ weird… heh…

It's hard for me to believe, sometimes, the things I would do to please you; last night… was merely one of the many examples I could bring just off the top of my head, and that's _before_ you put me on the patient's couch at a shrink's office to have it said how messed up I really am. We both know I am, even if you keep petting my head and telling me I'm fine; ask almost anyone out there and they'll tell you –

How far I'd go… and have gone…

How hard I'd try – how hard I struggled.

How hard and from how high I'm willing – once again – to fall.

Doesn't mean they can believe it even now, though… can't say I do either. The one who likes the least to even think about it, however – is you.

Maybe it's better this way, though… you don't really need to know.

It'll just scare you away again, after all.

It's been quite a while now that I've began to hold my tongue around you. It looks like you've noticed enough to quirk a brow but not enough to bring it up… quite just yet.

I have to wonder if you're just stalling, if you're waiting for it to magically "get better"… or option number three, being that you simply know better than to bother.

We both know I won't answer, and I think that – despite it all – we _both_ know why.

It's depressing in a way, though… how you won't even ask anymore. How you know the chances of putting everything back the way they were before are nonexistent so you'd rather not even try.

Then again… it doesn't really matter, does it? You're here with me to share all those awkward silences with, and that's far, far more than I deserve. You'd probably frown at that, say it's all in my head – and never once wonder who put it there in the first place.

You don't really have to, though, now do you? After all, if _you_ don't know… then I must've truly gone insane.

For a minute there I have to wonder if I haven't, really, seeing how you stirring makes me jump half out of my skin. It's gone before it ever even started, though, and by the time you manage to look at me over your shoulder, eyes unfocused and cheeks still painted red by sleep, I can offer you a grin the likes of which most people can't manage on their best days. You, on your part, know it's wrong – and still only ask everything that doesn't matter.

How did I sleep;

How do I feel;

How badly do my rear and wrists feel.

You should know better than to think my silence means anything good and I'm pretty sure you do, but none of it matters. You're here, after all, and for that I'd willingly sacrifice this body on which I gave up on so very long ago.

What comes next is not a surprise to either of us - it's not long before you reach out to me again, and there's a tiny part of me that hates you for the nature of the treatment.

Your touches are gentle and affectionate; your warm breath tickles as it strolls down my cheek. Your body radiates so much heat that makes it seem like we're melting against each other, and I stop myself in time before losing myself in you.

It's laughable, really, and I can't help it as I hear my own voice sounding it out. How easily you seem willing to repeat the events of last night which made you worry about me so much to begin with…

You never did seem capable of letting me properly recover, I ponder, yet move to lye over you as you'd have me move all the same. Looking into your eyes, I know you'll be gentler than last night, and I let you go along with it. You seem relieved and hold back, and yet I know there's no need. I'd go further… have already done so much more… to me, as long as you're satisfied, as long as you're content, as long as you'd stay… I don't care. I know it best as I lean forward and press a kiss to your ear, relishing the shiver that runs down you as my breath caresses your now moist skin.

You don't have to be mine; all I want is to have you near. For that, I'd do it – everything and anything –

Even if it means hurting myself.

Even if it means hurting you.

Even if it means saying 'I love you'.


End file.
